Yesterday was Labor Day, another holiday. Tomorrow is a Saturday. Thus, if you're smart enough, you should have taken a leave today, so you'll have a four-day weekend.

Alas, I'm not that smart, because I'm typing this from the office, because things get really busy.

But you know what I'll say here. I'm not really a guy who likes holidays. Sure, I appreciate the extra hours of sleep, but I'd find myself a bit more bored than usual because I have little to do. I always say I'll start a marathon of, say, True Detective, but that never happens because my attention span is too short to watch so much television in so little time. (I'm still stuck at the second episode, which means, yes, I have seen Alexandra Daddario naked.)

So, yesterday, I was stuck at home, watching some television while nursing a cough, while the rest are, well, in Boracay. You know where I'm going with this.

No, go on, enjoy the beach. I'm sure you deserve it. Well-deserved vacation and all that. The douchiness of that hashtag and the photos that accompany it notwithstanding, you all probably deserve some time at the beach, for one reason or another. You know, partying, dancing, maybe fucking, who knows what happens.

I've been to Boracay twice, and both during the summer. I know how crowded it can get, and really, that sort of removes the fun in vacationing - but then again, can you ever go on holiday in a completely isolated place? That stokes up paranoia, and you don't want to be paranoid on holiday. No, it's best that you're surrounded by people - so many people, in fact, that you cannot do what you set out to do, or see what you set out to see. White sand, or stinky feet?

But for some reason, I found a way to enjoy Boracay in those two times. I find that it really forces you to isolate yourself - make a space of your own, whether it's inside your hotel room or outside on the beach. You arm yourself with a magazine, you find yourself a lounger, you plop yourself down and you plug in your earphones and voila! Isolation. A vacation to yourself. A vacation within a vacation. Because you can't space out when you're at work, no.

But then you have to go home, and depending on what hotel you're staying in, it's either an inconvenience or a hellish experience. I'm sure I mentioned this before. The first time I went to Boracay, we were in this really good hotel - spacey, nice views, beachside - but it had no entrance by the main road. So, when we finally left, we had to carry our heavy(-ish) luggage around 500 meters. Then we had ride one tricycle through the snaking, narrow main road - and maybe sit behind the driver, with no ledge to rest your feet on, so it's extra scary. Then we go down the jetty port, fall in line, buy tickets, wait, board the bangka, ride it for ten minutes or so, get off, go to the airport, fall in line again...

Know what, I wish those douches have a hard time leaving Boracay, and their so-called well-deserved vacation get undone.